


what not to expect when you're expecting

by asexuelf



Series: Fenrill Week 2020 [6]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anxiety, Cats, Elf/Elf Relationship(s), Established Relationship, F/M, Fenrill Week 2020, Fluff, Happy Fenris (Dragon Age), Merrill Being Merrill (Dragon Age), Pregnancy, Tevene (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Fenris goes out to the market for fruit and comes home with something else.[PROMPT: Kittens.]
Relationships: Fenris/Merrill (Dragon Age)
Series: Fenrill Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890526
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	what not to expect when you're expecting

**Author's Note:**

> day 6! i chose the prompt 'kittens' :D
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

It's a fairly pointless anxiety. He knows this. Nothing will come of it, as it comes from nothing, so he should silence it and move on. _He knows this_ and he tells it to himself over and over as he walks home from the fruit stall his wife favors, but despite it all, he can't seem to calm his stuttering heart. The vicious voice making his hands shake states again, clear as day, a fear that echoes through his bones:

_She'll have the baby while I'm gone._

"No, she won't." He says it out loud through gritted teeth and tries not to look back at the people who glance at him in alarm.

They're used to him by now, no longer quite so frightened by the tall, armored elf that sulks through their city, but few of them have likely heard him talk - let alone to himself. They edge away from him, making him roll his eyes. After so long fighting beside their Champion, one would think they'd be lining up for his autograph…

Thinking of Hawke and their motley crew only makes his fears louder.

_She's all alone in that house and she has no way of calling for someone to help deliver the child._

"No, she _isn't._ "

This time, he meets the eye of a startled man and gives a dangerous glare. The man holds his hands up and keeps walking, though there's a noticeable rush to his gait that wasn't there before.

This time, Fenris only sighs. Let Lowtown's population fear him with all the weight they give their misconceptions of the mad. He has bigger things to worry about than whether humans fear the voices in other people's heads. Merrill is pregnant - _very pregnant_ \- and he needs to get back to her as quickly as possible.

Why he needs to be there so soon is beyond him, but the anxiety kicks up again to let him know that he must, without question, arrive home immediately. It makes no sense. Merrill isn't having the baby for at _least_ another month - and even that's pushing a little early. Still, with how wobbly her newly taut, round belly has made her, he worries. _Kaffas,_ how he worries! The thing looks ready to burst out of her at any moment.

Gah, _stop thinking!_ He's moments away from knocking on his head just for a new sound to bounce around his skull. Not that it would help the looks he's getting.

If he must foolishly obsess over things - things which he left to the responsibility of Isabela and Anders for the entire _twenty minutes_ he's been gone - then he'll at least take an alleyway so that less people can see him talk to himself. No good getting stopped and questioned by "concerned" passerby, let alone a member of the guard or a bored Templar.

Alleys in Lowtown are little different than any other, though they ironically grow safer as one moves towards the Alienage. Or perhaps not so ironically. People do prey on the vulnerable, but not when a wraith of terrible power stalks them and rids them of ne'er-do-wells. All that remains now are a few older boys talking about girls and work, a handful of Athenril's elves standing around looking impatient, and-

_Mew!_

The sound brings Fenris up short. He stops completely, his eyes caught on the turned-over crate that the sad, barely-audible mewl had seemed to originate from. It's a beat-up old crate, about as dirty and chipped as the buildings he's found himself between, and he can see the bright red paint of the seller's name on the side even in the dim shade.

Hesitant, and mindful of spiders or other pests, Fenris hooks the claws of his gauntlet beneath the box and flips it over.

It's… exactly what he should have imagined. Why he expected to see anything other than a too-tiny kitten is unknown to him, but he sees it now, unable to stand without falling, so thin in the ribs that he wonders if it ever knew its mother.

" _Miserandus pusilius pecus…_ " The thing's tiny ears flick at the sound and it shakes, tail to tip. "Oh, _carus,_ you are safe. You're safe now."

He hopes the thing doesn't have rabies - or any other disease. Bringing ticks home to Merrill and the baby is the last thing he wants to do. Careful of the sharp edges of his gauntlets, he scoops the little grey tabby into his palms and lifts it away from the cold, damp ground it was on.

"How long were you under there?" he asks it. "For how long have you been alone?"

It doesn't answer. It just shakes. His heart swells all the more for it. He knows what it's like to be starving and afraid, alone in an unfamiliar place.

"Well. You are not alone anymore."

The newly-purchased blackberries, pears, and plums take up all the space in Fenris' shoulder bag, and the apples and figs he couldn't refuse himself take up the pouches on his belt, so he'll be carrying the cat home, it seems. Probably better that way - this way it won't scratch up the fruits with its not-yet retracted claws, something which will _definitely_ make them sick. Lowtown's paved side-streets are not exactly known for their cleanliness.

He continues walking, careful not to jostle or pinch the kitten in his hands. It's a short while yet to the Alienage proper, and then he will be with Merrill again at last. And Anders and Isabela, of course, but those two aren't his pregnant wife, so they're far less important to his anxious mind. The same anxious mind which is now latched onto the kitten and what trouble it may bring.

Anders will certainly be happy, at least. Perhaps the cat can even be payment for his looking after Merrill's pregnancy, since he'll accept no coin; and Anders will likely know far more about cat diseases than-

Wait. Fenris stops in his tracks. The house is in his sights. Through the window, he can see Merrill - safe, _safe,_ and probably not in labor - as she reads. The curtains are drawn all around the house, it looks like; she glows in the gentle sunlight.

He can't take the kitten inside. He _can't._ It was- he can't remember it now, _kaffas,_ but he knows that Anders told him about cats. Anders goes on and on about cats when he's allowed to, and Fenris remembers him mentioning that cats can be dangerous for pregnant people to be around. He doesn't remember how or why, but he _knows._

Fenris looks down at the shaking, miserable little thing in his hand, as silvery grey as the gauntlets holding her.

"Oh, _cara,_ " he sighs. Whether he means Merrill or the cat, he's suddenly unsure. "I cannot leave you out here. You won't survive."

She mewls back at him. It's a plea for mercy as much as anything he's ever heard.

"As Varric would so eloquently put it: _shit_."

She does not reply, on account of being a kitten. When he continues towards the door, however, she snuggles her half-bald head into his hand, and continues to mewl.

He sighs and moves around the house to enter through the back. This way, he can keep her separated from Merrill, just until he asks Anders the specifics of that hazy conversation of years past.

With a groan, Fenris carefully steps through Merrill's tiny, potted garden to the back door of their house. It's bigger than the hovel she'd lived in before; space for the two of them and for the new baby. The newly put-together nursery had before been a study, a sort of mini-library which they both indulged themselves in, but they agreed that most books could go into Hawke's library while the ones most-loved went in the living room or bedroom.

The back door leads to a thin hallway between their bedroom and the nursery, which opens into a kitchen, which is separated from the living room by a half-wall. He can almost see Merrill; just her elbow jutting out, and the flexing toes of her stretched-out leg. He knows she can't see him.

He sneaks quietly through the hallway and into their bedroom. It smells like her in here; earthy and bright, like green foliage and brown sugar. He breathes it in and lets the exhale gust out calmly. He is in control. He can find a place to put a kitten.

There's- a box, somewhere. There must be. He kept one of the crates they used to move all their things here ages ago, telling Merrill (as well as himself) that it may one day come in handy. He had felt silly for it at the time, but finds himself terrifically grateful for it now as he locates the old crate and sets the kitten down inside, just beneath the writing desk against the wall. Nice and shady here, and likely warm too.

She fusses the moment his hands let go of her. He cringes at the noise, trying to placate her with words as he rushes to remove his gauntlets and scrub his palms. The splashing of water is loud, but not as loud as the repetitive cries of the kitten.

"Shh, little one, _shh,_ " he tries to whisper, finally taking his bag and belt off himself and onto the writing desk. He'll move it to the kitchen as soon as she's dealt with, he tells himself. "Hush, sweet thing."

Unmoved by his shushing, she mewls louder and louder, so he goes into the bathing room adjacent and grabs some dirty clothes from the hamper for a makeshift bed for her. It calms her a bit. Though she doesn't seem happy, she does puff down a little - and her whining tapers off into tiny chirps. His heart melts.

"I should name you… _Clamosa._ Because you are very, very, _very_ loud."

As if in protest, she squeaks once, then goes quiet. 

He can only smile.

Kitten tucked away and out of trouble, he makes the familiar effort of removing his armor, piece by piece. Gauntlets were placed carefully beside the armor stand, now joined by his breastplate while he works himself out of his leathers. It's a calming process; the anxiety which filled him leaves him slowly, quieting his heart for the first time since he left for fruit. He's fitting his leathers beside the armor stand to take care of later when she enters the room.

The sounds of bare feet against the floor announce her arrival, but he's not able to turn before he hears Merrill's voice. "Why do you insist on putting all that armor on for such a small trip? I can't imagine being ambushed on the way to Tilly's. Did you get ambushed?"

It sounds so genuine, he can't help but smile. He knows her better by now. "I did," he teases back. "And I've brought my attacker home, but you are not allowed to meet her yet. In fact, please go back-"

"Is that what that adorable chirruping was?" Her voice is forceful, secretly admonishing behind her sweet tone. "You got attacked by a kitty-cat?"

"Yes. A little grey one, with stripes on her head. But you must not go near her."

Now that sweetness is replaced by confusion. "What? Why not?"

He stalls. "The… fetal- disease." If he could only _remember…_

"Fenris," Merrill huffs. No sweetness at all to cover it up; just pure, honest frustration. "I keep telling you, I'm not made of glass! I'm hardly the first or last person to ever give birth, I _think_ I can pet a cat-"

His own frustration growing, Fenris desperately shakes his head. "No, no- Anders mentioned it. Something about cats… It can make a fetus sick."

Merrill just stares. Then her head tilts to the side. "Creators, is that true? I never knew anything about that. And I've been studying pregnancy and reproduction and all since that first afternoon I was hurling!"

"I… believe so. Anders can tell us more." He sighs, averting his eyes. "I- We should ask as well, if I can touch you now that I've been in contact with…" Realization hits. He looks around wildly. "Where _are_ Isabela and Anders?"

Waving a hand flippantly, Merrill turns away, shoulders relaxed. "Oh, they stepped out for a moment. A nice human boy came by and said that Anders was needed at his clinic for a little while, but he told me he'd be back soon!"

"And no one thought to stay with you?!"

Merrill groans. "Again with this! I am perfectly capable-"

"What if you were to fall? Or if complications were to arise, suddenly?"

"Anders checked me before he left. The babies and me are perfectly healthy- Oops! That was a surprise…"

Fenris shakes his head, trying very hard not to let that information process. _Babiesbabiesbabiesbabies-_ "Healthy or not, if you were to trip or-"

"I was sitting here the entire time, knowing you'd be home. The windows are open if I needed to shout for the neighbors. And - _and_ \- you demanded that Anders teach me how to fall to protect both the baby and me when it was very early in the pregnancy. You great oaf."

Although he clicks his tongue and looks away, Fenris makes no further argument. She is well and she's even been in good spirits - who is he to go throwing a wrench into it all?

_Meee-ew!_

Both their heads turn to the writing desk.

"Oh, Fenris," Merrill gushes. Her hands are up near her chin, her eyes sparkling. "She sounds so lonesome. Are you sure I can't pet her?"

"We'll be sure only when Anders returns." And then he's striding into the adjacent bathing room, turning in the doorway to tell her, "Whatever you need, I am here. But for now..."

She sighs, nodding. "Yes, yes. To the living room with me. _Carefully._ Taking very small, slow steps."

He stands in the doorway. He blinks at her.

It's on the third blink that she breaks, grinning cheekily. "Okay, vhenan," she says, faux-sweetness nowhere to be found. It's genuine this time, as gentle as her warm green eyes staring into his. "Can I put the fruit away, at least? Save you the effort, so you can watch the kitty or have a bath."

"Sounds fine to-" He stops, biting his cheek. "Let me bring it to you."

She allows it, smiling as he picks up the belt and bag to bring to her. When he's close to her, he fights the urge to step away, just in case- _just in case._

"Thank you, vhenan."

"Of course, amata." As she takes the heavy fruit, he hides his flinch, instead looking down at the rounded arch of her belly. He feels his eyes grow suddenly wide. _Babies._ Plural _._ "Wash and eat one. Or two."

She laughs behind her hand. "It's two, Fenris."

"It's as many as you li- Oh. _Oh._ "

"Yes."

"Babies. _Two_ babies?"

"And a kitten!"

Fenris doesn't faint, not then and there, but it's a close thing.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! 💖


End file.
